


Next In Line

by njckle



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, FamilyAU, Fluff, Gen, adrien and felix are brothers, big bro felix, more than one generation of chat noirs and ladybugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: There's never been just one Chat Noir.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been been in storage for a year and I'm finally publishing it! Yay! 
> 
> Based off of [starrycove's](http://starrycove.tumblr.com) [art](http://starrycove.tumblr.com/post/140055322715/there-is-a-lot-because-i-am-so-weak-for-this-au) because I am weak.

Adrien’s ten when he experiences his first akuma attack.

It happens out of the blue, a huge crash making everyone within a block radius freeze. The outdoor market goes silent while pigeons take to the sky. It’s just the _flap flap flap_ of wings for a solid five—six seconds.

The second crash is followed by distant screaming and that’s when everyone moves.

There’s pushing and shoving, flying food and baskets, loud, harsh words melding into nonsense that makes Adrien’s ears ring. He loses Felix in the crowds of people running for cover, scared and helpless as he tries not to get trampled by upheaved tables and splattered with tomatoes and strawberries. He didn't mean to get lost, securely remember hearing his brother ordering him to “get out of here and somewhere safe.” He remembers being scared, remembers not knowing what to do or where to go (he had to find Felix and then they would go from there).

He remembers hiding behind a parked car, pressed against the side door. He remembers that not being enough, being found by someone— _something_. He remembers an ugly grin and a reaching hand and...

He wakes up to a pounding head. He’s lying on his back even though he doesn’t remember ever falling. Above him, the air is cool against his skin, and the grass underneath him tickles his neck. No screams or sirens pierce his ears and, he wonders for a moment, _why should there be_?

His eyes are open, but he can’t make out anything, and that scares him. He focuses on breathing, in and out, then repeat, just like Felix told him to do whenever he started to get scared. Maybe if he waits, his vision will come back and then he can get out of wherever he is and go home.

“Adrien?”

Except he does nothing. He doesn't move, not even an inch, not even the fear able to spur him into action. He’s a ragdoll, his body lying limp on the ground.

“Adrien!”

Something that isn't skin presses against his cheek, bringing him out of his daze. He's too tired to move away, so he focuses on it, on the cool feel on his skin. It feels like a hand and that's good, isn't it?

“Hey, Adrien, are you okay?”

Green and black take up his entire vision, swallowing his entire view of the blue that he assumes was the sky. No images, just blurred colors that blend together to give him something akin to a disorganized palette. It sounds silly, but the colors are reassuring, if not a little too bright.

“My head hurts…” His mouth feels like sandpaper.

There's an expulsion of air from lungs, a mixture between a sigh and a laugh hitting his forehead. “I'm sure it does.”

“The attack is affecting him more than everyone else,” a voice he doesn’t know says. “He’s, what, ten? Probably the youngest one here.”

Adrien feels his body move, but it isn't him. How can it be when he has no control whatsoever, his arms and legs numb and unresponsive. His lack of a reaction is bad, if he goes by how the voices rise in concern.

“Are you okay, kid?”

The color green comes closer and Adrien gets enough of his sight back to realize he's looking into the brightest pair of eyes he's ever seen. Slanted and unblinking, they stare at him with an unparalleled intensity. He wants to reassure whoever it is that he’s fine, honest, but all he manages is a slow blink.

Again, there's pressure against his cheek, this time turning his head. Black of different shades meld together to form a chest—same as the mask that covers the face he can now see—all the way to the two arms surrounding him.

He's cradled in the arms of a cat.

“You're…”

The picture gains another color with the smile that shines down at him: white. “Here to help. Glad you’re not a vegetable.”

He hears a laugh, high and sweet, but the mouth above him doesn't move. “You gave us a good scare.”

A flash of red to his right distracts him and has him tilting his head just so. A girl—no, _the_ girl in red stares at him with concern, stepping closer so Adrien can identify her. He stares.

“You’ve struck him speechless, my Lady.” Chat Noir’s grin is enough to bring Adrien further from his daze. It’s then he realizes that he’s not on the ground anymore (when had that happened?), pressed against a sturdy chest with claws curling at his sides. “Best I take him home before you stun him even further.”

The girl in red— _Ladybug_ nods. “I'll make sure the others get where they need to be.” She reaches forward to stroke his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. She's just as gentle as Chat Noir and Adrien may be out of it, but he can't believe that this is happening. “Get this kitten home in one piece, alright Chat?”

Adrien feels more than sees his self-appointed caretaker nod, before he’s shouldered into a better hold. Instinctively, he wraps his hands around strong shoulders and presses his head against where the suit meets skin. In the bell at Chat Noir’s neck, the reflection of a tired boy stares back at him.

 _Is that me?_ he wants to ask, but doesn't.

“Ready?” The voice vibrating in his ear loses all quirkiness in favor of soft spoken words.

With one last look at Ladybug, Adrien nods, gripping tighter. Ladybug gives him a small wave and then the ground is twenty feet below them, making everyone turn into small ants.

For whatever reason, Adrien’s not afraid of the increasing height. Chat Noir’s movements are smooth and careful, something Adrien’s thankful for, unable to take much more of his sudden throbbing head. Still, his arms never loosen their hold.

Sometime during the ride, he feels his eyes droop. He doesn't want to fall asleep, not when he just woke up—especially not when he's with one of his heroes. How were they supposed to find their way to his home?

“Don't worry, I have you.” Again, Chat Noir’s voice is soft and Adrien can’t help but relax.

He wakes ups at home, in his own bed, with Felix by his side.

* * *

He doesn’t know when, but at some point Felix became just as distant as their father. They don't hang out as much, barely speaking more than the friendly greeting before one of them is whisked off to a meeting or tutor session.

Even at age twelve, Adrien is aware of the expectations that are laid on his brother’s shoulders, overwhelming to anyone else who wasn't as capable or determined. From preparing for _le bac_ to getting himself familiar with the company workings, Felix is busier and less present.

Today is no different than most days, Felix taking up his usual seat at the dining table, head deep in review notes. Adrien’s only just come back from a photoshoot, so time with his brother would be a relief from all the boring adults prepping him up like a doll; the textbooks that make a barricading wall dissuade him only for a second, so intent he is on a great day.

Felix doesn’t bother to look up from his work as he shuts him down. “I know what you're going to ask and the answer is no, Adrien.”

A quick strike and he hadn't even gotten within ten feet.

“Please!” Adrien begs, peeking over the edge at the dozens of papers spread across the table in front of his brother. “Father’s not back from his trip and you said that we’d hang out.”

“That was before Father asked me to accompany him to a corporate gala tomorrow night. Now I have to make up for the change in my schedule.”

Schedule, schmedule. Adrien whines, pulling out his best puppy dog eyes. Maybe he could guilt his brother into hanging out with him. “But—”

“No.”

“What if—”

“ _Adrien_.” The tone is a mimic of their father’s, with just enough scolding to leave Adrien thoroughly chastised.

“Fine.” Crossing his arms, Adrien not so discreetly stomps around the table and slumps into the seat across from Felix. Once his brother made up his mind, that was it, and Adrien would have to wait for a better opportunity to ask again (maybe in five minutes, if he was feeling risky).

Silence settles between them, Felix going back to his homework while he’s left to his own design. Spending a minute watching his brother, Adrien’s brain begins to wander, the ticking of the grandfather clock slowly lulling him to sleep. Rather than fall into boredom, he trifles through the papers littered around the table and a collection of boring designer magazines (his father’s serious face stares back up at him on quite a few of them) and other business mumbo jumbo.

Something that isn’t about fashion catches his eye and, when he picks up the magazine, he cheers.

“Adrien, what did I s—” His brother stops, but Adrien doesn’t care to ask why, so focused on the object now in his hands.

Because, on the front page of the magazine, is Paris’ very own superheroes. It’s an action picture, one that’s clearer than any other taken before it, perfectly catching the moment Ladybug and Chat Noir leap across a busy cross-section.

Adrien can't help but kick out his feet in excitement, hitting something too soft to be the table’s wooden leg. “ _Ouais_! Ladybug and Chat Noir are so cool!”

With how they save Paris daily, it’s impossible not to idolize them. Not to mention that they did save him (it's all a bit hazy, but he’s grateful nonetheless). To him, they are nothing less than spectacular.

He jumps at the sudden screeching from a chair being pushed out. In front of him, Felix shoots up like a rocket. “How about we go out to that bakery you like?”

Startled, Adrien looks up at his brother, still clutching the magazine to his chest. “I thought you said you were busy?” Father would reprimand them if he found out they (Felix) veered off from the daily plan, throwing away precious time to squabble about. It’s a speech Adrien receives every other day.

Felix leans forward, half on his crumpled papers—throwing education to the curb in his scandalous revolt—eyes suddenly bright. He lays a hand on Adrien’s head, ruffling his hair so much that it ends up a crow's nest and eliciting a giggle. “For you? I'll make time.”

* * *

When Adrien’s fourteen, Felix gives him the biggest surprise of his life.

Adrien doesn’t know this when his brother asks for a private word in his room and far away from the prying eyes of the bulters. He doesn’t think much of it at all, only happy to be invited into his brother’s room (it’s been years since he’s been allowed in).

He jumps onto Felix’s bed the moment he enters, finding it just as bouncy as he remembers it. Everything about the room is familiar, barely changed in the years passed by; framed photos of them as kids are all around, a few with their mother peaking through, bright and happy against the plain colors of the room.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

His expression is twisted into something strange, something that he hasn't seen on his brother's face, and Adrien doesn't know what to do to relieve. It's sad, he thinks, but can't be too sure.

“Is something wrong?” He becomes suddenly worried. “Is it about dad? He doesn’t want me to do anymore extracurricular activities, does he? I thought piano and fencing were enough.”

“No. It’s something more important.” For the first time in his life, Adrien sees his brother falter. “It’s… something I should told you earlier. I just didn't know how…”

“What's wrong? You can tell me.”

“I know I can, but…” Felix sighs, running a hand through his hair, leaving it less than prestige. “Please don't be angry at me.”

“Why would I—”

“Just tell him already! I'm getting hungry just sitting here!”

Adrien jumps, looking around the room for the source of the voice. “What was that?”

Strangely enough, Felix isn't surprised by the random voice, irritated more than anything. His brother leans out of his chair and smacks at the bookshelf to their left, leading Adrien to raise his eyebrows in confusion; Felix doesn’t seem to understand how unusual he is acting, settling back into his seat with small sigh.

“That,” Felix says as an explanation, “is Plagg.”

“Plagg? What's a Plagg?”

His brother simply holds out his hand and Adrien jerks back at the shadow that comes racing out from the shelf. It stops just short of hitting Felix in the face, giving Adrien a good look at what has settled on his palm.

‘Plagg’ is what looked like a small, black cat with a head a smudge too big for its body and a tail that extended out like a long ribbon from its backside. It stares at him with bulbous, green eyes.

“How’s it goin’, kid?”

Adrien gapes, eyes growing wider at every word, fascinated at how the cat’s mouth formed each syllable. His mind disconnects from his mouth, his lips moving to say something, but no words come out.

It cackles and _flies_ towards him. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Adrien doesn’t realize he’s backing away until he reaches the edge of the bed and slips. The hardwood floor is unforgiving, his shoulder banging against it with a loud thud. He groans as the rest of his lower half slumps down to follow.

“Look at that, Felix.” The cat floats above him, inches from his face. It’s expression is gleeful, finding humor in Adrien’s freakout. “Can’t even land on his feet.”

Air’s released from his lungs, a wheezing sound escaping through his teeth.

Felix pops into view and waves the cat away. “Relax. He's harmless.” He helps Adrien to his feet, patting him down like a worried mother hen. “Are you okay?”

“I think,” he starts, staring at the black creature hovering by his brother’s shoulder, “I need an explanation.”

Then he's seated down and given a story filled with magic and Egyptian mythology and superheroes. One that spans ages, an endless battle between good and evil that's drawn in Felix to be the champion of bad luck. One that Adrien almost doesn't believe.

Ever since he was little, Felix promised to treat him like an equal. That meant that no secrets were kept, that he could trust his brother to talk to him about whatever involved him. And, while this huge secret that did involve him was kept under wraps, Adrien knows that Felix is telling the truth. He had his reasons, he always did.

“Why are you telling me this? Do you need my help?”

“You could say that…”

At Adrien’s confused face, Felix takes a seat next to him so they're shoulder to shoulder. “When we first met, Plagg and I made a deal. He would allow me to use the Miraculous so that I could help him fight akumas.”

Adrien nods. Father always ingrained that nothing was ever free, hard work and perfection leading to reward. Deals had to be made, compromises set and worked around, all for the benefit of the company.

“But this deal can't last forever. It has to end whether I want it to or not.”

“Why?”

Pressing the pads of his fingertips together, he has his usual calculated expression in place, one that Adrien only saw when he was struggling to figure out a complicated problem. In the end, he simply says, “Because I’m not Chat Noir.”

Now Adrien’s confused. “But you said—”

“I may be Chat Noir now, but I’m not the _true_ Chat Noir. I'm just a copycat, a stand-in until the real Chat Noir can take my place.”

Something feels off. Adrien doesn't know what it is, but it has to be related to the way Felix’s looking at him, staring him down so intently. There's a hidden message trying to be said, but Adrien can't decipher it no matter how hard he thinks.

Clarity comes in the shape of a paw print ingrained on a ring—Felix’s ring. The one that Adrien’s never seen parted from his brother ever since it popped into existence five years ago.

The one that Felix is currently sliding off.

Everything comes together in an instant. His hand grabs the appendage, stopping the forbidden action, Adrien frantically shaking his head.

“N-No, you can't be serious.” One look at Felix’s face tells him that he is completely serious, which spells out a problem for Adrien. The ring is still between them, but he pushes his brother’s hands, and it, away. “Me? I’m not—I can’t—you can’t possibly think—”

“Adrien.”

“I mean, you're so—and I'm so… how could I even—”

“ _Adrien_.”

He stops, biting his lip, and, after a moment, glances up at his brother through his lashes. The most honest and unwavering expression he's ever seen stares back at him, followed by a encouraging smile.

Adrien looks down at their hands.

The ring shines up at him from his open palm.

Slowly, Felix closes his fingers around the ring, voice soft. “I don’t know who made you believe that you’re less than amazing, but I need you to believe me when I say that they’re wrong. You're the perfect fit, Adrien. You’re Chat Noir.”

The amount of conviction in Felix’s voice is undebatable and Adrien, well, he can't help but believe it.

* * *

The first thing Adrien learns about Plagg is his love of cheese.

Soon enough, he never wants to see a wheel of cheese in his life.

“Gross. You like that smell?” He waves off the kwami when he flies closer and offers him some of the snack. The kitchen isn't big enough for him to escape of the smell, especially Camembert.

“Who knew what I was missing out my whole life. It's the most wonderful thing I've ever had.”

Plagg strokes the cheese, a bit too lovingly if Adrien’s completely honest. After he's done worshipping it, he begins to scarf it down in huge bites; it looks more like a black hole sucking up everything nearby than eating, practically no chewing involved.

He burps and Adrien gags, barely keeping his own lunch inside his stomach. “Disgusting.”

“Says what you know about gourmet food.”

Putting a good distance between him and the cat, Adrien slides into the seat next to his brother who, once again, is head deep in papers concerning company profits. “How did you deal with his addiction?”

Before Felix can speak, Plagg laughs (it's more like a hiccuping growl). “Deal with it? He's the one who gave me my first Gouda.” The kwami then proceeds to laugh at Adrien’s horrified face.

“You did this?”

Felix shrugs, grinning down at his work. “He didn't like anything else and kept on complaining. I had to give him something.”

Adrien groans. “And now I'm going to pay for it.”

The next smile is directed at him. “Consider it my parting gift.”

* * *

The first time Plagg’s absorbed into the ring, Adrien’s standing in front of his mirror with his eyes closed.

He doesn't know what to expect, but he certainly doesn't expect to feel a rush of… something. Euphoria is the closest thing that comes close to describing the feeling, leaving him elated and giddy for reasons he can't comprehend. He feels powerful and courageous and like he could take on the world; strength courses through his veins even as a weight presses against the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. His world expands, his senses giving him an overload of information, all of it painting a picture of his surroundings in great detail.

He opens his eyes to a world tinted green, every minuscule detail so clear it leaves him breathless. All around him he spots dust particles drift in a lazy breeze, the light coming through the windows. His whole world heightens, giving him a whole new perspective, and he’s only just seen his bedroom.

What really leaves him stunned is the person staring back at him through the mirror. At first glance, he thinks he's staring at Felix, or at least his doppelganger. Only the subtle differences in the suit eases his concern, leading him to see smaller details that prove to him that he’s not a total copycat: an inch shorter off the collar, varying trim along the shoulders, his hair still nowhere near as long as Felix’s.

He assumes it must be different for every user.

Not sure what spurs him on, but Adrien—Chat strikes a pose, feeling invincible. (Is this what Felix felt every time he went out as Chat Noir?) Grinning, he flexes his arms, enjoying how the suit seems to act like a second skin. Looking at himself, he knows that he could lift a bus or scale a building without breaking a sweat; a list of impossible things cross his mind and he could do every one of them.

It's amazing.

He's admiring his claws, laughing all the while, when a snort catches him off guard. He jumps at least five feet in the air, that surprising him even more and he barely manages not to fall flat on his face.

Felix is leaning against the doorframe, watching him in what can only be in amusement. Even with his newfound senses, Chat didn't hear him come in.

There's a good distance between them, but Chat can see every one of his pores, every eyelash, and every individual strand of hair. He blinks and his eyesight zooms out to something he’s accustomed to, yet still having the clarity of digital camera.

Felix waves a flippant hand. “Don't stop on my account. Go on, play around in your new superhero suit.”

It must be the mask, because instead of sputtering through an explanation, Chat brings himself to his full height. He crosses his arms and leans back, oozing confidence as he smirks at his brother. “Jealous? I pull off a better Chat Noir than you ever could.”

“Oh yeah,” Felix deadpans, stepping away from the door frame and sauntering towards him. “Definitely jealous.”

“It's expected. I mean, I'm _paw_ sitively amazing.”

“Could be better.” With quick jab, Felix’s finger pokes Chat in the middle of his forehead. “But I’m going to need you to be serious here, Adrien.”

“Serious. Got it.” Chat waves the hand away, but still smiles. He tries to quell the excitement building in him, he really does, but not even his brother’s reminder of his new responsibilities as a superhero bring him down from his high. Despite his best efforts, it grows and he's bouncing on the tips of his toes in anticipation. “So…”

Felix raises an eyebrow and Chat just knows that his brother is playing with him, always the one to tease him at every possible chance. Underneath that cool exterior is a joker, not the stiff businessman everyone thought him to be. “So?”

“Let’s be serious.” He bumps shoulders with his brother, waggling his eyebrows. “Teach me to be a better Chat Noir.”

The suit’s the only reason he doesn’t fall back on his butt as he’s shoved away. “If I’m going to teach you, you need to chill.” That sounds like a command, but he takes it more of a recommendation.

“I'm totally chill.” At the disbelieving stare, he laughs and offers a clawed finger, still bouncing with endless energy. “No, seriously, I'll be chill. Pinky promise.”

Felix only sighs, muttering about him being ridiculous, but hooks the pinky with his own nonetheless.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Chat finds himself following after his brother into their person gym. “What are we doing down here?”

“You said you wanted to start training, so here we are.” It's not an explanation, but Felix doesn't offer anymore. He finds the right switch and then lights are burning Chat’s retinas (he wants to hiss because _why were they so bright_?).

An actual, honest to God growl emerges from the back of his throat at Felix’s laugh, most likely at his pain.

“Take out your weapon.”

He’s still blinking away the stars in his eyes. “What?”

His brother points to his back. Twisting, Chat discovers that, yes, there is indeed something on his lower back, though it doesn't look like the staff his brother used during his superhero days. It’s short and blockish, silver with the exception of a neon green paw print; grasping it, he thinks it’s hardly big enough to smack someone upside the head, much less battle with.

He raises an eyebrow at his brother, only to realise a second too late that it won’t be seen past the mask. “Do I throw it at my enemies and hope for the best or do I—”

A button is pressed somewhere and the entire thing extends, doubling in length and scaring him half to death.

Okay, he admits, that’s kind of cool. He gives it an experimental twirl, his fingers nimble and handling it with an ease that made him think he had been using the weapon for years. Amazingly enough, it knows exactly how long he wants it and he plays around with it for a couple of minutes.

“Alright. You ready?” Chat stops swinging his staff like a baseball bat, looking to where Felix idly takes one of the swords off the wall.

“Yeah, I’m—what are you doing?” It _looks_ like Felix wanted to have a one-on-one fight, but that’d be ridiculous because his brother never sparred with him, always on the sidelines with a observant gaze.

Felix raises an eyebrow, stepping onto the mat. Gone is his sweater, only wearing the rumpled undershirt with its sleeves rolled up; it's a far cry from stuck up rich kid. “I'm going to teach you how to fight.”

Chat eyes the sharp tip of the saber that’s far too close for comfort, double-edged blade thicker than the one’s he’s dealt with, and backs up. He’s been practicing fencing himself for a couple years, but Felix has half a decade worth of experience over him, a skilled swordsman in all but title. “I don’t know...”

“What’s this I hear? Is my baby brother just a big ol’ scaredy cat?” his brother taunts, stepping closer. The gym is decent sized, but Felix keeps advancing forward and Chat starts to feel crowded.

Chat glares at him, offended at the childish insult. “I’m not scared.”

“Then prove it.” The grin he gets is more feral than anything else, Felix’s eyes challenging him to say otherwise. Now more than ever, Chat can see the person Felix became when he put on the mask, and it’s fascinating. He wants to see more of this other side of his brother.

“Fine.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Chat rushes forward just as Felix does. They meet halfway, in an clash of metal, pushing against each other's weapon with all their weight. Chat feels the strain in his forearms to his shoulders, running all the way down to his lower back. The balance sways between them, dipping back and forth, but Chat holds his own.

“Good,” is all Felix says before shoving him back. He charges at him straight on, only for it to be a trick, Felix side stepping and spinning on his heel. The flat of his blade slaps Chat’s hand and he yelps in surprise. “But not good enough.”

“Ow!” The baton flies out of his grip and clatters to the ground while his skin from his wrist to his knuckles is left stinging. Hissing, he shakes his hand. “Hey!”

“Focus, Adrien.” Not the apology he deserves, but his brother is advancing on him again. “You won’t have time to cry in a real fight. You’re going to need to be smarter, faster, and stronger than your opponent.”

They circle each other, Chat dodging Felix’s offense, each swing harder and faster than the last; his brother, ever calm and collected, doesn't hold back as he jabs and swings. “Everything should come naturally, so don't focus on it too much.” Another swing and then a random elbow jab. “The suit gives you power, but you have to get comfortable with it. There'll be times where you won't be able to count on your reflexes, with or without the suit, so you'll have to learn them on your own.”

To prove his point, Felix lunges and spins into a roundhouse kick that nearly catches Chat in the head. It's so fluid and quick that he wonders why his brother even needed a fencing instructor.

Somehow, Chat blocks the next swing in a clumsy act of defense. His arms ache under the blade, unprepared for the power behind it; the suit protects him from being cut, a miracle that gives him hope. He manages a grin.

A hard kick to his gut has him stumbling back, barely ducking under a high slash. His spine screams when he bends back into an extreme angle, but he (barely) holds.

Merciless, Felix kicks out his feet from under him.

Chat expects to fall.

He doesn’t.

Rather, his hand shoots out and palms the ground and soon he's holding himself up with only one arm; then his body is acting on its own accord, twisting with flexibility he didn't know he had. Felix leans back as his foot strikes out in a wide arc, his face absolutely clear as Chat’s world spins.

Not even a second later, he’s flipping back like an Olympic gymnast.

He lands on all fours, hand already shooting out to catch his baton, easily plucking it out of the air (he hadn't even seen Felix throw it—or pick it up for that matter). A small foreign part of him thinks, _too easy,_ followed by the faint echo of a snort that sounded like a certain small black cat he knew.

He gapes at his brother from across the mat.

“Told you.” Felix shifts into a fighting stance again, brandishing the sword in front of him with an experienced hand. His smile is sly, but the challenging air is back again. “Now, show me what you got, _Chat Noir_.”

He really _could_ do incredible things, like the superhero his brother was. He _could_ hold his own against Felix, could fight back, and could, maybe, even win.

That fact has Chat grinning and sliding into a low crouch. “With pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is done, but it's currently going through it's beta stage. :)
> 
> Reviews are encouraged!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves. Here comes the angst.

One day Felix comes into his room unannounced, holding a small black box.

“What's this?”

Immediately, Adrien’s off his bed and tackling his brother, tugging at his arms even as longer arms extend out of his reach. “Where did you get that?”

He jumps and they nearly take a stumble into the ground and there is a shoulder digging uncomfortably into his cheekbone. Despite his efforts, he can’t take it back, Felix using his height to his advantage and lifting the box even higher. Why couldn’t this happen after he hit his growth spurt? “You left it in the car.”

When his brother begins to open the box, Adrien freaks out. “Don’t! It’s not mine!”

“Then who’s is it? And why do you have it?”

“I-I mean, it is mine! Actually, it’s for you, but I wasn’t going to—not now—later.” At Felix’s confusion Adrien sighs, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. This isn’t how he planned this exchange to go. “Just… open it.”

He peeks through his fingers just as Felix opens the box. Once revealed, his brother’s face goes slack, delicately picking up the black ring settled inside.

Adrien squirms as his brother eyes the ring, watching as he silently judges the jewelry. It’s similar to the Miraculous besides the paw print being replaced by a simple cat head, which is a stupid idea now that Adrien thinks about it. Why did he think that would be funny?

He tries to dig his way out of an early grave. “I thought, you know, since you gave me your ring, you won't have one anymore… and wow, ha, this was a stupid idea, sorry. If you don’t want it I can, um, retur—”

He's pulled into a hug so tight that he's practically squashed into Felix’s chest, the crisp smell of his shirt overwhelming him. It’s a good thing Plagg is napping on the windowsill rather than in his jacket pocket because the kwami would’ve been crushed.

“Are you—”

“You're going to be a great Chat Noir, you hear me?” His brother's voice is low in his ear, far more emotional than Adrien’s ever heard him. “I won't always be around to save you—especially now—so please be careful.”

Adrien doesn't know what's come over his brother, but this kind of intimacy is rare and he’ll take what he can get. He hugs back just as tight, relieved because _Felix liked his gift_.

“I'll be careful. Promise.”

* * *

 

“What if she hates me?”

Felix looks up from his work and regards Adrien with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t ask who he’s talking about, both of them knowing exactly who the ‘she’ in question is. A small sigh and he goes back to scribbling down profit numbers. “Why would she hate you?”

“For starters, I'm replacing you, the partner she's been fighting crime with for years. Second, she’s been doing this for a while and I’m just gonna stand in her way. Not to mention I might do or say something stupid and offend her and then she'll never want to be associated with me ever again.” Needing something to do with his hands, Adrien runs them through his hair until he’s close to ripping it all out. He paces around the table, unable to keep still. “She's gonna hate me, I just know it.”

Felix stops writing.

“You like her.” His brother sounds surprised.

Groaning, Adrien slumps forward to press his cheek to the cool glass of the table. “Is it that obvious?”

“With you? Completely.”

He groans again, the embarrassment of being an open book not enough to drown out the warm feeling pooling in his chest. School and photoshoots had nothing on this, a walk in the park compared to meeting his idol—his _crush_ —face to face.

“She's not going to hate you, trust me on this. Ladybug is the sweetest person you could ever meet. You'll never meet a person more understanding and kind, in and out of the mask.”

His brother's words has Adrien perking up. Felix didn't give that good of a praise to just anybody, so that meant Ladybug was as perfect as Adrien thought her to be or—

Wait. In and out of the mask?

His brother knows who Ladybug is. The notion is strange, but expected. He knew her, Felix knew Ladybug. That means she knew him, and—

“Do _you_ like her?”

A strange expression crosses Felix’s face and he turns away abruptly. “No, she's just a friend.”

Adrien doesn’t think he’s supposed to catch the flash of pain that takes over Felix’s features and he definitely isn’t supposed to see the look of despair. The only other time he's seen something remotely similar was when their mother was brought up, so he instantly backs up.

Whatever it means, he doesn't ask about Ladybug again.

* * *

He meets Ladybug.

She's all smiles, bright eyed and sweet.

They joke and laugh and tease, but something stops Chat from saying anything even remotely flirty. He doesn't know what it is, just that whenever he gets the chance, he sees Ladybug smile, so kind and accepting and caring, it dies on his tongue.

It's not the one he's seen in the magazines, neither is the look in her eyes. There's no spark, no invitation to try and guess who she is, to take up the challenge. Adrien is not his brother and, although magic casts them in shadows, Ladybug knows that. He's not her Chat Noir and never will be.

It happens slowly, spanning across weeks of crime-fighting and casual banter that’s always just safe. His heart doesn't beat as loud when she looks his way and he doesn't lose himself in her eyes.

His crush dies and he can't say that he's sad to see it go.

And so, when he’s searching for Felix in their maze-like home, he somehow isn't surprised to see him sitting on his windowsill with a girl with braids. They're in their own little world, with soft words and small laughs that barely reach his ears.

Adrien stops at the door frame, peeking in on scene he isn't privy to. Nonetheless, he watches Paris’ most loved superheroes in the warm glow of the early morning sun. He watches and almost wants to laugh to himself because the angle he's at is just enough to keep the girl’s face covered in the shadows of her hair while her earrings shine so bright.

He glances at Plagg floating by his shoulder and despite nothing being said, Adrien knows that this is one secret his brother won't tell him about.

And for once, that's fine.

Before backing away, Adrien gives himself one more look. One more glimpse at a part of his brother he'll never really know, never understand. One more look of Felix smiling down at the girl like she's the sun and stars and moon.

Adrien thinks he's never looked more like their mother.

* * *

“Plagg.”

The kwami pops up from between his pillows, hastily covering the stash of Camembert he's sneaked (for the third time this week) under the sheets. “What is it?”

Adrien ignores the smelly cheese, falling back onto his bed. “Is something wrong with Felix?”

“Why would you say that?”

He shrugs, turning over and settling his chin on his hands. Positioned like this, he's eye level with the kwami, studying Plagg for anything out of the ordinary. “I don't know, he just seems… sad.”

If Plagg knows something he doesn't, he doesn't show it, acting like his normal self. “Out of the suit, he's a serious guy. Are you sure you're not confusing emotions? Maybe he's actually happy and you're just too stupid to recognize it.”

He brushes past the insult (he'd get back at the kwami later). “I know my brother. Something’s bothering him.”

This time Plagg doesn't try to rebuke him, just swallowing a piece of cheese half his body weight. Adrien watches him, mulling over the possibilities over Felix’s strange behavior.

And it was strange, how his brother was acting. Yes, out the two of them, Adrien was more of social butterfly and could at least _act_ like he was enjoying himself, but Felix had never been this introverted. They hung out and talked more than ever, but Adrien couldn't help but feel that he was being kept in the dark about something. Everything his brother did had an edge to it, a lingering feeling that left him confused and worried.

“… is it because I'm replacing him?”

Plagg floats over to him, settling on his head. “Wrong. Felix isn't the type to get jealous of his little brother. It's almost disgusting how much he cares about you.”

That piques Adrien’s interest. “Did he talk about me a lot? As Chat Noir, I mean?”

“Wouldn't stop gushing! Adrien this, Adrien that—gah, it was annoying! I'm surprised he didn't tell you about me sooner. Kept going on and on about how you'd be angry with him and how he hated lying to you.”

A warm feeling spreads through Adrien’s chest and he tries to hold back a smile. That sounded like his brother, mothering over him when no one else would. This piece of information almost makes him forget about his worries. Almost.

“So, I didn't do anything to upset him?”

“Trust me on this, kid, if Felix is down in the dumps, then it’s not because of something you did.” Adrien turns his head to follow Plagg as he hops down onto his elbow. “You'll find out what's going on sooner or later, so don't sweat over it too much.”

“If you say so…”

 

* * *

Adrien is almost fifteen when he finds out the biggest secret his brother has kept from him.

He’s at a private study session for his upcoming English test and he's granted the permission to leave the confines of the mansion and go out to the city library. Even more lucky is the fact that he's allowed to go on his own, having the vague suspicion he has his brother to thank (probably bartering this small gift with promises of helping around with the company). Still, it's nice and he sidles up to the older Agreste child with an easy smile, mind full of plans in which he spends the entire day with his brother.

Except: “You go on without me. I'll catch up in a minute, after I finish this merger form.”

Strange, Felix always insisted they walk together (why his brother chose twenty to be the year he was clingy, he would never know), but Adrien allows the oddity in reflection of the great day they're going to have.

So, he smiles and goes along with his brother, demanding that he take him out if he makes him wait long. With that promise and Plagg in toe, Adrien leaves, calling that he’ll wait for Felix at the public library.

He takes his time going through the manga section, quietly describing their plots to Plagg, who’s completely baffled at the ridiculousness of some of them. Adrien wants to roll his eyes at the _cat god who transforms him into a superhero_.

Looking at his phone, he checks the time. It’s been almost two hour he’s spent waiting and still no sign of his brother. “Felix should be here by now. What’s keeping him?”

“Probably makings sure a bolt of lightning won’t strike him on the spot. He can’t be too careful. Especially now.”

“What do you mean?” It's a small slip, one that Adrien knows Plagg didn't mean to say in his presence (despite switching users, the cat’s always had a solid connection with Felix). But, too late, it's already out in the open and he's latched on it.

“Nothing,” the kwami argues, flying through the space between the books into the next aisle. “It’s not important.”

Adrien follows, attempting to catch the cat without drawing attention. “Plagg! Come back here! What do you mean, ‘Especially now?’ And lightning? Why would Felix need to be careful?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Is someone after him? Is it Hawkmoth?”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

“I am worrying about it! Y—” He nearly takes down a cart of book and the librarian manning it with it. There’s a short scramble, a pile of books slipping onto the floor, and he’s speeding away again. “Sorry! So sorry! Excuse me, I’m just—there’s a—” He sees black dart straight to the encyclopedias, bolting after it. “Plagg!”

“Nope! Not telling and you can't make me!”

“You’re hiding something!” They go down a few more aisles, moving further from the main desk, Adrien getting more frustrated the longer he chases. “You said I should trust you, so prove that I should!” Someone shushes him, but he ignores them. “Plagg! It's about Felix, right? Then it has something to do with me! I deserve to know!”

His words hit home, stopping the kwami long enough to corner him.

“Plagg… please...”

Adrien’s never seen Plagg look the way he does now, eyes downcast and sad, guilt etched in every move. The kwami’s ears droop and he sinks into Adrien’s awaiting palm as if he's entirely spent. “The Miraculous can only have one wearer.”

It’s not much of an explanation, but it’s not hard to pick up the missing pieces and figure out the true meaning. Only one user. Felix had said Adrien was the true Chat Noir, that he was just filling in. Adrien had taken the ring and then it had been his, not Felix’s. If there was only one user per Miraculous, then that meant—

“How long?”

“Kid, I—”

“ _Plagg_ ,” Adrien starts again, his hands curling around the cat’s small body. Maybe he’s learned a thing or two from his father and brother, or maybe it’s the situation, but his demand stops Plagg short. “How long?”

“Since he took off the ring.” Something must’ve shown on Adrien’s face because the cat starts again even more desperate. “I warned him when we first met! I said, ‘Only the chosen user can willingly put on and take off the ring!’ But he didn’t listen! I told him he could only use it for himself, not anyone else! He had to be selfish! I told him and _he wouldn’t listen_!”

Adrien’s already running.

He's out if the library within seconds, not even offering an apology to the people he pushes out of the way in his hurry or the outraged squawk the librarian let's out as his loud stomps disturb the peace. His heart is hammering in his chest and the ring burns on his finger.

Some otherworldly force must've been in play because he's only two blocks from his brother’s old school when an ear splitting screech has him stumbling into a street sign in surprise. In a big city like Paris, accidents are bound to happen and he wants to ignore the commotion and keep going, but Plagg’s soft whine is just so _wrong_ and so out of place that he knows this is different.

He sees a crowd forming, people running toward one focal point even as traffic stops.

“Plagg,” Adrien begs, gripping on the post for dear life. His chest hurts and his lungs can’t get enough air no matter how many gasping breaths he takes. He hears whimpering, but he's not so sure it's the kwami shaking in his pocket. “Plagg, please…”

His legs are as heavy as cinder blocks and it feels like invisible chains are constricting around his chest, but he manages to stumble into the street. It isn’t hard to squeeze past the ring of strangers and, when he’s gotten to the front of the crowd, Adrien finally gets a look at what has grabbed everyone's attention.

He almost crumbles at the sight.

The tears come first, one after another until they’re running freely down his cheeks. His body pitches forward, away from the crowd and toward the person lying motionless by the bumper of the truck. He catches a glimpse of pale hair and a hand, the shine of the black ring drawing his sole attention and keeping it for eternity.

For the first time in his life, Adrien feels himself break, his legs giving out from underneath him. People—witnesses, strangers, outsiders—rush forward, but he pay them no mind, numb to their hands and voices. Bits and pieces of him shatter on the ground like the broken body in front of him, nothing anyone could do to put him back together.

All the while, the sly face of a cat grins devilishly up at him, laughing at his misery.

* * *

He's kept at the police station while his father flies back from his business meeting in China, in an isolated corner where no one bothers him. People run to and fro, having no time to bother with the quiet kid sitting dejectedly in the corner.

Rough and distinctive voices don’t bother to keep quiet and Adrien doesn’t bother to indicate he can hear every word.

“Who’s the kid?”

“Family of the victim.”

Adrien stares straight ahead. _Victim_.The word rings through his head, unrelenting and chipping away at him slowly. Victim, victim, victim, victim. It’s a horrible word, one that sets his insides twisting. His brother is—was a victim. A victim of fate and it's cruel humor, merciless and twisted in its greed for amusement.

From inside his jacket, Plagg bumps against his arm. He looks down at his lap, unclenching his fists to see pale crescent moons beginning to turn red on his palm.

“Isn’t he the son of Gabriel Agreste?”

“They both are. Adrien and Felix Agreste. The victim—his older brother, Felix—was the only casualty in the crash.”

There’s more talk, this time quieter.

“Didn’t the wife pass on a couple years back?” Silence, then a low whistle—like knife to the temple, mind stopping as his soul recedes into itself and starts to wither. “First the wife and now a son. This family can’t get a break… poor kid.”

There's a low hum, followed by the jingling of keys. “On Friday the thirteenth too.”

“Yeah, what bad luck.”

* * *

The funeral is small and quiet.

After the procession, a girl comes up to him with big, sad eyes and a watery smile. Her voice is quiet and teary and the things she says are a struggle to understand past the roar of the rain.

Adrien tries to focus, really he does, but he must’ve been the one hit because something in his head is jarred and nothing can get through. Words fly over his head, explanations of ‘old school friends’ and ‘we were really close’ hitting a mental barcade.

_I-I just wanted to meet you at least once before I leave. I can't stay in Paris anymore, but trust me when I say that you'll be left in good hands._

Something she says manages to get through the fog that muddles his brain.

 _He told me he was cursed, but I didn't think … I'm sorry—I could’ve_ — _it's all my fault._

When she leaves, Plagg peeks out from his jacket and says one word that would’ve left Adrien reeling days before. “Ladybug.”

He doesn’t look after her, or at anyone else leaving the cemetery, keeping his listless gaze on the freshly dug grave before him. Natalie will probably give him a couple minutes, but then he’ll be escorted back to the mansion, his own luxurious grave whose prolonged suffocation will lead to his own untimely demise.

 _Cursed_ , he thinks, _we're cursed._

* * *

This cycle of death and loneliness isn’t new to Adrien, experiencing something just as similar when his mother had passed away.

Except, this time around, Felix isn’t there to replace the emptiness of his father’s absence. That space is left open and hollow. He’s been abandoned, left to navigate his way in a world that’s turned darker, with more twists and turns and dark corners—except there’s no one to help him, no flashlight, no guide, nothing.

Plagg doesn’t leave his side for an instant. He sticks to him like glue with no intention of leaving and Adrien, keeping to his bedroom day after day, appreciates the loyalty. The feel of a small body pressed against the crook of his neck or curled up on his chest keeps him stationed. No one bothers them, Natalie barely attempting to do anything more than check up on him daily.

Adrien’s not even sure when’s the last time he saw his father since the funeral.

Plagg accepts his silence without complaint. Any attempt at blaming him—or anyone for that matter—would leave Adrien tired and feeling worse, so he doesn’t bother. He doesn’t bother with anything, really. He keeps to himself, not in any mood to deal with the outside world; it’s better that way, to keep it all bottled up so no one can see how shattered he truly is.

It’s late afternoon and Adrien’s laying on his bed in day old clothes, his sheets tangled around his legs while Plagg is curled up tight by head. His room is a mess, dark and musty, and the shadows threaten to swallow him whole.

Watching the kwami’s small body move up and down with every breath, Adrien reaches out to stroke along his back, reassured that the warmth under his fingers is solid and real. In response, Plagg grumbles in his sleep, one of his ears twitching erratically.

The sight almost makes Adrien smile.

Almost.

A small glimmer has him looking past his friend, at his own hand. Felix’s—no, _his_ silver ring on his index finger glints with the few rays of sunlight getting past the blinds. His face goes slack and his mind blanks, the hollow feeling that he's acquainted himself with the past couple of weeks coming back.

He rolls onto his side, his muscles complaining from the lack of use, but he ignores it in favor of pressing his face deeper into his pillow. Not for the first time, he wishes he could go to sleep and wake up to another reality.

“Plagg?”

The kwami immediately peeks one eye open despite the fact this is the first time Adrien’s spoken all day. “What is it?”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?”

The black cat doesn’t answer right away, lazily blinking at him. “You still got the miraculous?”

“Yes.” He hasn’t taken the ring off once, nor would he ever.

A yawn carries the scent of Camembert straight to Adrien’s face. “Then you’re stuck with me.”

The words sound crude, but they promise companionship and he latches onto it like a starving man.

Plagg doesn’t complain when Adrien takes him into his hands and brings him closer, curling into a tighter ball. Doesn’t complain when the pillowcase gets damp or when the grip around him is just a little too tight. He only settles in a more comfortable position before closing his eyes with a little yawn; soft puffs of air hit Adrien’s nose as the kwami’s breathing evens out, just as his does.

Adrien falls asleep to soft purring and, for the first time in days, gets a full night's rest.

* * *

The Ladybug he meets isn’t the one he's been patrolling with for the last couple of months.

That Ladybug, the one he grew to idolize, was cool, powerful, kind, witty. She was genuine, both in concern and sorrow, a saintly figure who came in and out of his life in a flash.

The Ladybug that comes crashing into him is all of that, and yet none of it. She’s young and new and pure, funny and serious, and confident and yet awkward. She’s completely and utterly real and everything about her makes him thankful he’d taken a chance and gone out that day.

He’d only donned the mask because he couldn’t stand being confined anymore, couldn’t stand seeing the same walls for another day. He’d hoped for a relief from the stress, the grief, the silence—everything.

He’s not so different as Chat Noir, not really. A little more open, a little louder, but it’s all for the same attention. The days spent locking himself in his room doesn’t affect him as much when he’s wearing the mask, a small part of him pushing it all to the side and demanding he at least enjoy the view.

So he had. Alone. Atop a precarious ledge. Overviewing the city.

And yet, she’d crashed into him and left her mark.

Chat finds himself falling for her the moment she laughs at his scrambled attempt at a joke (it had been weak at best, the result of his self-inflicted ostracization).

_Oh, so you're a joker, are you?_

With her laugh—it's more of a giggle, really, just as rapturing as she is—the sun shines a little brighter and his world gets a little happier. She is the sky and earth, the stars that shine even in the darkest of nights; she's everything bright in the world and he can't look away. She is hope and light mixed into one human being, promising better days just like her predecessor.

There's no doubt she'll be just as capable.

He’s jolted back to reality when the girl in red and black comments on the ‘other Chat Noir.’ It's an offhand remark, layered with curiosity. A simple question, no more.

Whatever happened to Felix, this Ladybug knows nothing of the pain and hardships that had taken place all for the ownership of one measly ring.

She's truly lucky.

More than anything, he wants to embrace her, hug her like he would his brother. He wants to cry, to become a blubbering mess, struggling with every breath as he gasps out each tragedy. He wants to lament over the fact that his brother's era was over, every change paving way to a world where Felix Agreste didn’t belong.

(He’d passed by the main hall to find a new portrait hanging on the wall, one that matched the house’s dead air with it’s bland colors and expressionless faces. Other pictures vanished, mementos to a happier life, gone.

His brother had finally joined his mother in the land of the forgotten.)

He wants to do all this and more, but it would take days, weeks, months. Time he doesn’t have.

Instead, he gives her a smile that almost reaches his eyes. “That cat’s hanging around another alley.”

She takes the explanation without any other inquiry and Chat barely refrains from slumping in relief. Something tells him he could confide in this girl about his brother and the curse that’s attached to his ring, that she’ll be different than the people in his life now, but the fact that they’ve just met stops him. Someday, maybe, but not now.

“Well,” Ladybug says, hands on her hips and a quirky tilt to her lips, “better make him proud, right kitty?”

With her, maybe he could.

“We’ll make them both proud, my Lady,” he finds himself saying, offering his gloved hand, wanting— _needing_ to make this partnership work in honor of past Chat Noir’s and Ladybug’s. For Felix. For himself.

Another smile lights up her face, one that highlights the blue in her eyes and leaves him starstruck. There's a challenge, a spark. She takes his hand without further ado and he marvels at how perfectly they fit (his brother had never mentioned how _perfect_ and _whole_ he would feel).

They're both a new generation of heroes, new at their trade, but, maybe, they could get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN


End file.
